Becoming Her Doctor
by thecolouryes
Summary: Rose and the Human Doctor, stuck in a parallel world, with no working Dimension Cannon, but a parallel TARDIS or two. Does the title give enough away?
1. Memories of Someone Else's Past

**Becoming Her Doctor**

**A Doctor Who Angst/Romance Fanfic**

**Summary:  
**_**Rose and the Human Doctor, stuck in a parallel world, with no working Dimension Cannon, but a parallel TARDIS or two. Does the title give enough away?**_

**Rated K+ for relatively depressing stuff along the way and a couple kisses.**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. If it was... no, who am I kidding, Doctor Who is the best with all the angst left in. All I have claims to is the parallel TARDIS and everything she encompasses.**

**A/N: I told you the title was sappy.**

**Anyway, this is the big, epic Doctor Who story I'm working on. I'm going to warn you now that the future parts are not going to be like this. I've got two poem chapters, one (true) drabble chapter, and one and a half longer-length chapters already written, but nothing more in this... present-day-and-memories-at-the-same-time style.**

**So don't be prepared for consistency with this story. Just be prepared for a story.**

**Italicized quotes taken from the episodes "The End of the World", "The Parting of Ways", "New Earth", "Utopia", and "The Last of the Time Lords" by the infamous Davies and "Planet of the Ood" by Keith Temple and "Dalek" by Robert Shearman. Also, kudos to Steven Moffat for "The Empty Child"/"The Doctor Dances".**

**Chapter One: Memories of Someone Else's Past (1175 words)**

"I can smell chips." Rose laughed, remembering.

"_I_ can smell chips."

_They'd stood in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. He'd held her hand supportively – as she'd held his. He'd asked her how the end of the world changed her. He'd asked her if she wanted to go home._

"_Can you smell chips?" she'd answered. He'd laughed._

"_Yeah."_

"_I want chips."_

"_Me too."_

"Chips again?"

"Chips again," Rose assured him. She went on with a half-hearted smile. "It worked the first time."

_They'd lay down on his overcoat on the applegrass, with him explaining and her listening. They'd been happy, right outside of New New York. He'd been reminding her of history she already knew – history she'd already witnessed._

"_So the year five billion, the sun expands, the Earth gets roasted."_

"_That was our first date," she'd remembered._

"_We had chips," he'd added._

"Oi! Don't go stealing all the chips!" Rose gave him a strange look – that wasn't something she remembered of him.

"You're different," she clarified, not for the first time, but the first time so directly. "I mean, you look the same but you're not the same."

"Different," he agreed. He didn't quite like it – but he couldn't help what he was.

_He'd somehow managed to turn something into a joke. She'd laughed. It'd been a strange sound to his ears – but a good one._

"_What?" he'd had to know._

"_You're so different."_

"_The new new Doctor." She'd smiled. She'd liked the change._

_But she wasn't sure she liked this one._

"At this rate, you'll never keep that skinny body of yours," Rose joked. He sighed, faking it so clearly Rose couldn't help smiling.

"I s'pose you're right. Nothing burns calories like running for your life."

_All those times he'd reached out for her hand and told her to run. All those times he hadn't said a word; they'd just grabbed hands and ran. That perfect mix of adrenaline and endorphins and pheromones crammed into such a simple act._

_Something else she'd missed and had barely gotten back._

"We'll have to figure out a way to start that up again. I haven't done much of that since... since I got here." She had to be careful around that name, calling the man in front of her what he wasn't or calling the one who wasn't here what the one in front of her was trying to be. "I've fought for my life, but I haven't run for it for ages."

"Maybe Torchwood could connect us with some aliens to scare off."

"Scare off? You'll just bore them to death with your limitless knowledge and there won't be any running involved. Anyway, Torchwood's nothing special here without our 51st Century friend to spice things up."

_He'd left her for five minutes and she'd managed to get herself in trouble. And what had she done? Discovered the ex-Time-Agent-turned-con-man that had lured them here in the first place._

_At least the flirt turned out to be more of a help than a nuisance in the end._

_Even if he was _quite_ the nuisance._

"You never told me, what happened to him?" Rose prompted.

"You never asked," he answered, avoiding the question so clearly she couldn't be fooled.

"How'd he come back to life? I saw them – I saw those _Daleks_–" she spat out the word. "They killed him."

_The cold, unfeeling metal bodies; the eyestalks that lived up to their name. "The ultimate in racial cleansing," he'd told her, at one point. She'd never forget them. They'd trapped her hear, and they'd created _him_, and they'd forced him to leave her here, with _him_. Stuck with the imposter – and it was all their fault._

"You happened to him, Rose."

"_Rose, you've done it. Now stop," he pleaded. "Just let go."_

"_How can I let go of this? I bring life."_

_Not too far away, but enough of a distance that they didn't see, the insistent flirt drew life back into his lungs._

"He'll never die?" Rose repeated. "I wish _I'd_ never die. Then we could travel forever, me and the Doctor." It wasn't until after she dropped the bomb that she realized what she'd said. She glanced over to her date and caught a pair of startlingly smoldering eyes. It couldn't be just her mistaken choice of words, could it?

"It's not natural. It should never have happened. You shouldn't have done that do him."

_Jack had been recounting the ways he'd died._

"_In the end, I got the message. I'm the man who can never die," he'd said from his impossible position. "And all that time you knew."_

"_That's why I left you behind. It's not easy, even just –" he'd shaken his head in disbelief – because that's what he'd been doing: disbelieving. "Just looking at you, Jack, 'cause you're wrong."_

"_Thanks."_

"_You are; I can't help it. I'm a Time Lord; it's instinct. It's in my guts. You're a fixed point in time and space. You're a fact." He'd paused, considering how to put it lightly. "That was never supposed to happen. Even the TARDIS reacted against you, tried to shake you off. Flew all the way to the end of the universe just to get rid of you."_

"In the end, living gets old. You don't want to go on forever, because even if you do, the rest of the universe doesn't. You leave everything you know behind. You leave everything you love behind. You can't dare to become attached to things, because in the end you'll watch them wither and die. You're surrounded by everyone but no one and nothing stays the same.

"After a while, you stop trusting yourself, not to mention everyone else. You can't win, you won't lose, you never get a respite from living." He sighed, still gazing well into the distance behind Rose.

"Sometimes, you just want to die."

_It had been a time of relative happiness – they'd just saved the world. Well, to be specific, Martha had saved the world. And there the three of them had stood, remembering the horrors they'd just witnessed. And how the world around them had no idea – and never would have any idea. And Jack had shattered the moment of relative peace with something so simple._

"_And what about me, can you fix that? Will I ever be able to die?"_

"_Nothing I can do. You're an impossible thing, Jack." Jack had laughed it off, but he had still seen the hurt, the pain, the never-ceasing ache that accompanied an endless life spilling out of those eyes that had already survived an inhuman lifetime. _

Rose's eyes welled up with tears. "I'm sorry."

_She hadn't been the only one to apologize. Maybe it was just how much Donna he had in him, but he remembered that clearly. And he'd felt Donna's heartbreak at realizing how alone he was, but he'd passed it off as the Oods' lament._

"_I'm sorry," Donna had said._

"_It's okay," he'd reassured, because it had been._

_As was this._

**A/N: This chapter was rather reminiscent of "The Doctor's Song." I hadn't started it out intending to end up like that, but I'm kinda glad it did. It set the thing off to the correctly depressing start it deserves.**

**I have a poem planned for a soon chapter, but I'd like to see something between that and this. A diary entry, perhaps? Another one of these? Something like this length-wise, but a little less of the... quotage? Or would you just rather I upload the poem? Tell me your opinion in a review!**


	2. AudioJournal, Entry One

**Becoming Her Doctor**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. If it was... no, who am I kidding, Doctor Who is the best with all the angst left in. All I have claims to is the parallel TARDIS and everything she encompasses.**

**A/N: As some astute readers may have noticed, the summary has changed by two words. This is because I did research and discovered that the Human Doctor and Rose get a bit of the TARDIS to grow their own... which makes my lovely parallel TARDIS idea rather blah, but I think this part manages to explain it away anyway.**

**I'm getting the feeling I might need to up the rating 'cause of cursing, but I don't want to do it just yet. I'll see – I might explode over a chapter and realize that yeah, I **_**do**_** kinda need to up it up to T.**

**This chapter I rather dislike because I rather fail at writing Rose and the Human Doctor in this level of interaction. So, there's only going to be this one chapter of them, and then a poem that sorta... well, you'll see. It'll be uploaded soon 'cause it's already written.**

**Chapter Two: Audio-Journal, Entry One (655 words)**

[The voice of a twenty-something woman talks, beginning with authority.]

Audio-Journal, Entry One

July 5, 2008

London, England, (Parallel) Earth

My bedroom in my parents' house

A day ago, everything was back to normal. The Doctor and I, fighting for our lives, fighting to save my planet.

Now I'm here again.

God, it sounds so awful. Those words are stuck in my head. "You'll never see him again, ever!" that annoying voice says. Why can't you just go away, voice? I don't like you!

Not that I particularly want to listen to the other voice, 'cause it's wrong. The one that keeps saying, "Look! You have everything you need to be happy here!"

I don't.

I don't have the Doctor.

Sure, I have this strange replica one. But he's not the Doctor. He's not who I need.

He's too–

Maybe I should use this... this "audio journal" like it's supposed to be used. Use it to actually tell a story, rather than just complain and moan about what I don't have. What I can't have, now.

Sorry.

Look at me, apologizing to an audio recorder again. It's all his damn fault, though. (Not that I can blame him, of course.) He left me here all alone. He trapped me here.

Okay, that bit was Dad's fault. But I'm glad he saved me. I'd rather be here, alive, than stuck in the void.

No I wouldn't.

At least in the void I wouldn't have this imposter, this poser, to deal with.

Sorry. Again. The story, right? Well, there's the story of the Dimension Cannon. But I almost feel like leaving it out. It's not important, not now. What's important now is that I'm stuck here, for good. Stuck here with this imposter of a Doctor who–

What am I supposed to call him? He's not the Doctor, so I can't call him that. He's... Well, I suppose I could call him John Smith.

No, I couldn't. He's... He's the Doctor, but he's not the Doctor. Oh, I give up. This is much too complicated for me to bother with now.

This whole thing is, actually, ridiculous. I'm sitting in my room, in front of a computer, talking to it like it's a person. Talking to a computer!

Mind you, I've probably done stranger things with the Doctor.

Maybe we can go do some more.

[The sound of a door opening interrupts. A man's voice follows.]

_Rose, what are you doing?_

I– [The microphone used in the recording gets shuffled around and then muffled as if held behind someone's back.] Nothing.

_Rose..._

What? It's my room. It's my house! I can do what I want.

_Technically, it's your parents' house..._

Oh, shut up.

_I'm only saying, your dad–_

Didn't I tell you to shut up already?

_Sorry._

What do you want?

_I..._

Out with it, I'm busy.

_You sure don't look busy to me._

Oi!

_Well, what are you doing then?_

What are _you_ doing? I asked first, and it's my room. I can kick you out if I need.

[A sigh.] _If you really want to know, I was working on building another TARDIS._

From that coral-y bit the Doctor gave us?

_No, _building_, Rose. That would be growing._

Well, are you working on that?

_It's going to take some time still._

You just don't want it done. ... Why not?

_As a human, it would be utterly ridiculous to travel alone, considering that I'll have aged before I get back._

Why don't you drag someone along with you?

_I don't want just anyone to come with me._

[A bit of silence, then a sniffle, like she's trying not to cry.] I can't take this right now. Could – could you...?

_Goodnight, Rose._ [Footsteps leading away, and then a door softly closing. So softly it's barely audible, a response.] _Goodnight, love._

[The sniffles get louder, then turn into crying. This continues for a time until they're abruptly cut off.]

**A/N: So, what do you think of the... audio-journal approach? I tried writing Rose's diary, but it just didn't work. She doesn't seem like the type to write things down in the first place, but I feel like she would record her story somehow. So I devised a slightly more technological approach to it.**

**What do you think? Tell me in a review, and I'll put up the poem right quick anyway.**


	3. Somewhere Along the Way Poem

**Becoming Her Doctor**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. If it was... no, who am I kidding, Doctor Who is the best with all the angst left in. All I have claims to is the parallel TARDIS and everything she encompasses.**

**A/N: I promised you a poem. This poem was one of the first things I wrote. Fitting it into this story-format is a bit awkward, but just make sure you read the poem title before starting the poem.**

**Chapter Three: Somewhere Along the Way (Poem) (94 words)**

She'd manage to find hope.

She had,

Before.

She'd–

Well...

She'd helped with the Dimension Cannon business,

And she hadn't exactly sat on her arse,

But she hadn't _lived_, either.

Not like she had,

Before.

She'd found hope,

In that Dimension Cannon,

Because it led her back–

Back to him–

Back to _her_ Doctor.

Not this one.

Although–

If she thought about it,

He wasn't just an imposter anymore.

He was just _another_ fluke.

Another man with just a title.

"The Doctor"

'Cause he was–

The Doctor.

Only difference was,

He wasn't _her_ Doctor.

**A/N: How's the poem? Good, bad, whatever? I should do the whole thing in poems; I should never do another one? (Too bad if either of those are your answers, they're both not happening.) I need a bit of Rose-Human Doctor interaction, then we can get to MY parallel TARDIS bit.**


	4. Shoe Shopping with the Doctor

**Becoming Her Doctor**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. If it was... no, who am I kidding, Doctor Who is the best with all the angst left in. All I have claims to is the parallel TARDIS and everything she encompasses.**

**A/N: Finally. You'd probably be mad at me if you knew how long this has been sitting on my computer, waiting to be uploaded. I was trying to see if I was going to add anything to it, and then I got side-tracked by Torchwood.**

**But here it is. Enjoy it.**

**Chapter Four: Shoe-Shopping with the Doctor (1298 words)**

Somehow, _somehow_, Rose had ended up going shoe-shopping with the Doctor.

It had started out that the Doctor needed a fancy suit. Apparently, when a TARDIS was grown, it didn't come complete with a wardrobe. This knowledge had made Rose temporarily wonder at where he'd gotten the assortment of time-period women's wear, such as that dress she'd worn in Cardiff. Then, this new new _new_ Doctor had grabbed her hand and whisked her away, promptly telling her they were leaving.

He had been rather brief while choosing a suit. Rose wasn't surprised – how much choice was there really when it came to picking a black suit? It wasn't as though there were different shades of black (though if there were, Rose guessed the Doctor would have been the one to recognize them), and there were only so many styles to pick from, and the Doctor knew what he was looking for, anyway: an exact (or as close as possible to exact) replica of the black suit the other him still had on the other TARDIS.

Then, the Doctor had dragged her to the shoe store, where he'd spent the last twenty minutes collecting ever style of converse the shop had. He had now progressed to rambling on about some planet called Rox-Fom-5 while trying them on and parading about the store as though sparkly black converse might feel different from simple black converse which might feel different if it had pink instead of white or blue or red or orange threading.

Rose watched him parading around and got to wondering again. He was so different sometimes. So... human. And he had quite a bit of Donna in him, Rose could tell. Not just the human bit. Maybe it was just how he was... was "born" the right word to use? "Created" sounded so harsh, but so much truer... Whatever it was called, the circumstances in which it happened were war-like, so he had so much hatred and aggression and passion.

Rose blinked when she realized the last bit. But, she supposed it made sense. A passion for killing was maybe how it began, but it turned into a passion for everything. She rationalized it by going back to her old Doctor, the first Doctor she'd known. Once he'd agreed to bring Rose along – once she'd agreed to come along – he had such a passion for showing her everything. Or maybe that was just how the Doctor _was_: it hadn't gone away when he'd regenerated into his current form.

Sighing, Rose glanced over to the Doctor again. He was parading around the store like – well, like a young girl who'd tried on her first pair of high heels and discovered that they were the most brilliant invention in the world. There was so much human in him. So much human _woman_, to be precise, it kept cropping up at random moments. Mind you, she must have been one outgoing, outspoken, determined woman, this Donna Noble that Rose had barely gotten to know. This new Doctor was much more forward, something that the bit of Rose that had waited for a good three years for the love of her life to come back into it greatly appreciated.

At the same time, there was no way she could accept that this was the man she had fallen in love with. He was more than a bit bossier, more than a bit ruder ("Oi! You there, find this in a size up for me, will you?"). There was of course the obvious that he was now part human, but this kept cropping up at the most random of moments ("The teeth of Time Lords are impervious to most forms of plaque, you know. I haven't really mastered the art of brushing mine yet."). Occasionally, very occasionally mind you, he would do something surprisingly feminine in nature, but would manage to cover up its femininity with something oddly Doctor-ish ("Let's go shopping. The TARDIS may grow up to be bigger on the inside, but she isn't born with a fully stocked wardrobe. We'll need one if we go to any strange habitats.").

He wasn't the same man, but he was close. So close and yet so far away from what _her_ Doctor was that it was almost too hard. She didn't think she could push him away, because that wouldn't be fair. Not to him and not to her, as she was glad to at the very least have the close friend she'd first found in the Doctor. The rest had come later, though when exactly, she wasn't sure. Pushing him would be like starting over, back at the beginning, all those years ago when she had first found herself stuck here, but worse. Her mum wouldn't understand, just that she had pushed away the man it seemed she loved. She hadn't exactly spent her time here making friends. Sure, she had acquaintances, but all she _really_ had was her family and this Doctor. She couldn't bring it upon herself to push him away, too.

It was unimaginably difficult to predict her future with the man strutting around the store in front of her. Half the time, she couldn't see herself living any sort of life that didn't include him and the eccentricities she really did love about him. The other half of the time, she couldn't fathom living – even temporarily – with a man who was so glaringly _not_ the Doctor.

More than anything else, she thought, time would tell. With the Doctor, things were always that way. Nothing was sure until enough time had passed to make it plausible, but by the time it was plausible it was already over.

On that morning when she first met the Doctor, she never would have guessed, had someone told her, that she'd soon be traveling across space and time with a big-eared alien. Once she'd met him, she never would have believed that she'd save his life, or travel with him, or matter to him, or have any sort of influence over him. Even when they were friends – just friends, proper mates, no love involved – or none that they'd admit – she'd never have imagined that he would burn up a star to say goodbye to her, and never even say it.

She never would have guessed there would be goodbye. On and on forever, that was Rose and the Doctor. The one constant in her life, and then, just like that, _poof!_ No more constant change, no more constant adventure. It went from nothing being constant except for the one thing that had to be to everything being constantly lacking.

* * *

"Sorry, what was that?" The Doctor looked at Rose. He'd known she wasn't paying a bit of attention once he had gotten into the middle of describing the All-Star Mega-Mall on Rox-Fom-5. She'd also let him ramble on way too long about the absurdity of their catchphrase ("Carrying you from star to star, one pair of converse at a time."), and when he had "tried on" his original shoes three times in a row to see if she was paying attention, she hadn't noticed.

He knew she was distracted, but he let it go. He could easily guess why she was distracted, and he didn't blame her. He was distracted himself – he just kept up the constant dialog for appearances. He knew exactly what was plaguing her, because something similar was plaguing him. But he had to be stronger, had to not let her know that he knew – though he knew that she knew, on some level, that he knew. All the troubles he was facing were threatening to become something monstrous. Instead, he let it all go.

"Black or brown converse with the suit?"

**A/N: Review if you want; I don't care. Also, I think I've recruited myself a beta, but as they haven't gotten back to me on how they want to edit chapters, I've uploaded this before they've seen it. But you may see updated versions of this and the last few chapters, and much better versions of future chapters, being uploaded soon.**


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